


Littoral

by Melande



Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: AU obviously, F/F, Fluff with some thoughtful moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melande/pseuds/Melande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sandy beachside of her mood yielded to the waves of Red's existence gladly, leaving behind glimmering impressions of previous thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Littoral

**Author's Note:**

> Not related to the main work, but I couldn't resist making a small piece for Red and Sybil.

The balcony from the Terrace Apartments could have overlooked the bay, if it weren’t for the number of buildings that crowded the view. From rounded fence posts that hemmed in the greenery up top one could gaze down into the streets below and plot a route, even if it would be quite a walk to get down to the piers and canals.

Cloudbank floated and thrived on top of the sea; water flowed like lifeblood through its brightly lit arteries and veins. One could hardly move fifteen blocks before meeting a canal or a fountain, Sybil mused mutely as she leaned forward. Of course, boat rides did horrifying things to her carefully combed hair, so she barely got to experience the thrill of zipping around on a personal watercraft.

Sybil heard a rustling of leaves as her companion stepped from the glowing entryway of the apartment to stand at her side. Her shoulders slumped an inch as she dropped the pensive expression for a relaxed smile.

“There’s no need to raise the facade, Sybil.” This female voice was low and pleasant; she’d once likened it to honey that could instantly switch from warm and flowing to cool and crystallized. “There has to be a time when you can be yourself. And if not with me, then when?”

“It’s not always an act,” came the easy reply, “and certainly not when you’re involved.” Technically truth. There was little need to hide herself around the other woman, or at least not any more. Red had always seen through the event planner when she put on her best semblance of sociability. “Really,” Sybil continued airily, “you’re one of the few I can be myself around. It’s nice to not be the Visible Host all the time.” The smile flickered like an open flame before steadying.

A sigh lost itself in a breeze that flew past, then one arm settled around the blonde’s lower back. “You’re never invisible to me. Not who you really are.” Red’s chin nestled into pale curls in the growing gloom, her presence so near that her warmth eclipsed the glow from the golden door. Something about the singer shifted Sybil’s world very slightly, as if the rising tide swept along her beach then receded to pull off the clutter that usually littered it. Her course of life had been irrevocably altered, bent out of shape and fixed into a new course of gravity, one that waxed and waned with Red’s company.

“No, I’m not,” she whispered to the streets below. Red could see through her, in a way that made her squirm uncomfortably with the rawness of exposure. And yet they were together. There had to be something in little Sybil Reisz, subjective Sybil Reisz, that drew the songstress to her above others. Something good in her that she herself couldn’t conceive, perhaps. Someday Red would tell her.

When her elbows grew tired of resting on the fence posts Sybil straightened to face the entrance. That meant Red had to stop leaning over, but she easily moved to rest on the socialite’s front. “Dearest, I can’t lean here or I’ll have a permanent groove in me,” Sybil admonished. At her lover’s pout she conceded, “But we can stay here a little longer.”

Her arms fit snugly around her singer’s waist, making the inches between them seem like nothing. The amber light tangled itself in Red’s hair from this angle then set it aflame in radiance. Those who attended her concerts would never see her with soft smudges at the corner of her eyes from removing her makeup, would never know she went out in a simple nightgown and bare feet, would never hear her turn off the light at midnight and set down her book as Sybil scooted closer between the sheets. Even for her partner’s sake the singer barely gave out information on herself. It wasn’t easy to set aside her questions and analyzing, but when around Red one had to live in the moment.

And that moment, right now, was flawless.

Except for the metal digging into her back. With a shimmy upward Sybil attempted to find a better position as Red chuckled into her collarbone. Her lips thinned and she rolled her eyes, which meant she missed the movement from below until a sinfully soft mouth met her own. The best response to that, of course, was to pull her lover up so they could share a _proper_ kiss. They had the night to themselves, after all.


End file.
